by V. Vaughn
Fated
V. Vaughn
Sugarloaf Publishing
Contents
Copyright
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About the Author
Copyright © 2015 by V. Vaughn
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by Croco Designs
Editing by Jodi Henley and Red Adept Publishing
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Created with Vellum
Foreword
Caroline Quinn writes romance, so you’d think it would be easy for her to do relationships. The truth is that while she can give any heroine a happy ending, after decades of being a single mother who swore off men, she struggles to find a guy she wants to date. Although, there’s one sexy werewolf she’s interested in, but after one fun afternoon on the lake, Paul Ryan left her high and dry. When he’s suddenly around at every turn she discovers there’s a reason she can’t keep him out of her dreams. Now she has to decide if fate’s plan for her is worth the risk.
Paul Ryan is the alpha of the Silver Lake Wolves and without a mate. When he met Caroline Quinn, all his senses buzzed with the electricity he used to feel for his late true mate. But he wasn’t ready for a second chance and let Caroline go. When Paul runs into her months later he can’t resist the pull of their fate, and he doesn’t want to. All he has to do now is convince Caroline they’re meant to be.
Chapter 1
Boxes of microwave dinners stare back at me from behind the glass doors in the frozen food section. A woman pushes a cart with a loose wheel, and it rattles as it goes by me. Why do all my choices seem to be red and green? Did some marketing team decide that stop-and-go colors make you more likely to purchase a quick meal? I’m on a deadline, and I really shouldn’t be wasting time trying to figure out dinner.
I smile to myself as I employ the method my daughter, Trixie, and I used to use for making this tough decision. Tugging at the waistband of my oversized sweats made even baggier by multiple days of wear, I peek inside my pants to see the color of my panties. Nude. That means chicken.
A chuckle makes me snap my head up, and I blow a strand of my hair out of my face as I realize I’m staring at Paul Ryan, the alpha of my daughter’s wolf pack.
Figures after all this time I’d see him at my worst. I write romance novels, and during crunch time I ignore the little things like personal hygiene and stocking my pantry. My bulky cotton outfit takes dumpy to a whole new level, and my hair hasn’t seen a brush since yesterday... I let out a sigh and say, “Hi, Paul.”
“Caroline. Making sure you remembered underwear?”
Damn him. This isn’t the first time I’ve made a fool of myself in front of Paul. When we first met, he walked in on me slapping my bottom as I asked my daughter, “Don’t you just want to smack it?”
My insides flutter in reaction to the sexy grin that covers his face. White teeth sparkle against his ruby-red lips like the heroes I’ve been writing lately. Paul Ryan is one hot werewolf, and even though he hasn’t called since we first met, I’ve managed to have a fantasy relationship with him anyway.
“Decision-making method,” I say. I take satisfaction in his confused look. “I’m on a deadline, and my cook up and left me when she decided to get married.” I shrug. “Kids these days.”
“Congratulations on being a grandmother. Those boys are quite precious.”
Grandmother. Trixie had twin boys two months ago. Not only did I never plan on having a child at seventeen, but I certainly didn’t plan on becoming a grandmother at thirty-six. “Thank you. And yes, they are,” I say.
For the Silver Lake Wolves, my grandsons are quite precious, because the pack needs children to continue on. Female werewolves rarely have offspring, so the male wolves seek out a human woman instead. Fate also ensures this ritual with true mate attraction.
Paul says, “It’s almost time to break out the canoe again.”
What? Last summer we met at a Fourth of July barbecue my daughter and her husband hosted. Paul took me out on the lake in a canoe, and we flirted shamelessly with each other. The evening ended with him walking me to my car and a promise he’d call. He didn’t.
I reply with a cool tone, “So it is.”
I glance at Paul’s basket to discover fresh produce and a bottle of wine. Suddenly the thought of chicken nuggets isn’t very appealing. I decide to go to the deli and get soup and a salad instead. I say, “Have a good night,” as I begin to walk away.
“Caroline, wait.” He grabs my arm to stop me.
I gaze up at him and his nostrils flare. Oh god, werewolves have a sensitive nose, and he’s probably smelling me since I haven’t had a shower today. Could I be any more disgusting? He probably thinks I’m mad about how he blew me off so I say, “You don’t need to say anything.” The heat of his hand has permeated my thick sweatshirt sleeve, and I tug my arm away. “We had fun at the party, and it stopped there. It wasn’t a big deal.” I walk off quickly before I further humiliate myself by letting him know otherwise.
When I get to the salad bar, I busy myself with deciding which soup smells the most appetizing. The curried chicken scent makes my mouth water, and since it fits the color of my panties, I pour myself a large container with the plan to make it more than one meal. I prepare a salad to match, and a chilled chardonnay from the cooler is cold in my hand when I grab it to complete my dinner.
I’m almost over my encounter with Paul when I get in line to check out. But as I set the food on the conveyer belt, I revisit my sad attempt at dating this year. I promised Trixie I’d get out there, but the truth is, I’d rather binge watch television shows on my computer than go to social engagements. While it’s easy for me to concoct ways for my heroines to meet their heroes, the reality is that it’s hard in real life. I’m lonely, and if I don’t do something to change it, I might end up as a crazy cat lady someday.
The bar code reader beeps as the clerk rings up my items, and she makes small talk with me as she bags my groceries. She’s a woman about my age, and I take notice of her neat hairdo and light touch of makeup. It makes me think that I should have given my public appearance a few minutes of effort, especially since I just ran into the one shot I had at a date in the last year. It’s time I try.
My bags rustle as the glass doors magically swish open for me. My phone rings while I walk to my car, and I stop to free a hand to reach for it in my purse. When I glance at the screen, I notice the call is from my sister, Sophie. “Hello.”
“Caro, have I got a surprise for you. Please tell me you don’t have a big deadline next weekend, because I’m on my way to your house Friday.”
I shake my head at the way my sister launches into conversations without so much as a hello. I say, “My deadline is tomorrow. That gives me a day to shower and clean my place before it’s officially the weekend.”
“Perfect. Guess who’s decided to spice up your life this summer.”
“The most annoying woman I know?” I ask as my car door clicks open.
“Exactly! And just wait until you hear what I did.”
I groan l
oud enough for her to hear. “Does it require bail money?”
“Very funny. I’ve rented a place on Silver Lake starting June first.”
Paul lives on Silver Lake, like most of the wolves in his pack. I say, “Fun.” The leather of my car seat is smooth under my bottom as I slide behind the wheel.
“More than fun. By the end of the summer, you’re going to wonder how you’ve managed all these years without me.”
“Ah, you seem to forget it wasn’t that long ago you left.” Sophie takes her free spirit label seriously and has crashed at my house more than once between career changes since her divorce a few years ago. But I smile, because my sister is definitely fun.
She says, “It’s got two bedrooms, looks over the water, and even has a dock. You must come live there with me.”
I notice Paul walk to his car. He’s in a suit and looks every bit the alpha as his powerful body moves with grace. Sophie says, “I promise to let you write, cook for you, and I might even throw in laundry if you promise to be my sidekick.”
“Sidekick?”
“Sidekick. We’re going to get ourselves some men.”
I chuckle and say, “You say that as if all we have to do is go get them.”
“What? It’s not that easy?”
“Nope,” I say. Sophie is charismatic and never had trouble finding a new man before she got married. But since her divorce, I think she’s been afraid to try. I add, “At least it’s not easy for me.”
“It will be once we give it an effort. Trixie is gone now, and it’s time to stop waiting. You’re free to date anyone that strikes your fancy without worrying how it will affect her.”
Sophie’s right. When Trixie was a baby, I did try dating, but I refused to have a revolving door of men in my life the way my mother did. Once my daughter was old enough to talk, I put my love life on hold.
Sophie continues on the path of why I should date now, but I tune her out as I watch Paul open the door of a gorgeous black Jaguar. Nice car. It fits him. I imagine how the engine must purr, and the thrill of the car speeding down the highway as it hugs the curves of the road. The memory of Paul’s voice sounds in my head. “Did you forget to wear underwear?” Heat rises to my cheeks as my insides tingle with desire.
“Caro?” asks Sophie. “Can you hear me?”
I crash back to reality. “I’m here. What time should I expect you on Friday?”
“Late afternoon. We’re going to have a fantastic summer.”
On Silver Lake, where I might run into Paul? “Yes. I think we will.”
Chapter 2
I glance around my double-wide trailer. The cleaning lady I hired a few months ago was here earlier today, and the faint scent of lemon is in the air. Over the years, I’ve made good money writing, but I’ve always tried to be vague about my job for Trixie’s sake. When people hear you write erotic romance, they get ideas, and most of the time it’s not good ones. So I have a pen name and keep a low profile by living in a trailer park and telling people I’m a freelance writer. But I’m not slumming it, by any means. In fact, I probably overcompensate with top-of-the-line appliances and fixtures I don’t need.
I suppose now that Trixie is gone I don’t have to hide what I do, and I could move to a more traditional home. I plop down on my leather couch and let it hug me like an old friend. I think of the dozens of books I’ve written curled up on this sofa as the sound of my neighbor, Carl’s, motorcycle roars by when he goes out for a ride, or when Barbara next door calls her cat before she settles in for the night.
While my neighbors’ habits are comforting, the trailer park residents are only acquaintances. I’ve never put myself out there, and everyone knows I keep to myself. Even when Trixie lived here, we found entertainment in each other instead of other people.
Light rapping at my door makes me stand and go to it. I open up to Sophie. She’s wearing her auburn curls in their natural state, along with a brightly colored scarf that fits her personality.
I step aside as I say, “Welcome.”
Sophie walks in, and a chilled bottle of wine is moist on my palm when she hands it to me. She glances around as she lets out a big sigh and says, “I love how this place looks like the results of a pimp-my-trailer reality show.”
I chuckle as I make my way to the kitchen. “Wine?”
“Yes,” says Sophie as she removes her coat. “Please.”
“I set you up in Trixie’s room. No more trundle bed for you, missy.”
“We’re living large.” My sister sits on the couch, and the zipper on her tall boot hums as she lowers it. “Just think, we can bring men home now.”
“Sophie!” The cork on the bottle pops.
“Relax. I wouldn’t do that to you here. But in the lake house?” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re here on a mission?” Sophie hasn’t talked about men in years. When she caught her husband cheating on her, she left her marriage a broken woman. I take her new outlook as a sign she’s ready to move on.
Wine splashes into goblets when I pour, and I ask, “Did Trixie put you up to this?”
“Not exactly,” says Sophie as she reaches for her glass and tucks her feet under her. “But we did talk about you. Your darling daughter says you aren’t very social, even though you told her you’d try to date now that she’s married.”
The couch whooshes when I land at the other end and sit cross-legged with my back against the arm to face my sister. “I know. I had such big plans but terrible follow-through.”
“Have you even gone out with a man yet?”
“Nope.” I sip my wine, and the tart flavor is delicious on my tongue. “I met a guy last summer at Trixie’s house, and I thought we hit it off, but even though he said he’d call, he never did.”
“It happens. You didn’t sit around waiting, did you?”
I did wait, and I’m too embarrassed to admit it.
Sophie scowls at me when I don’t answer. “Caro, please tell me you got over him and tried again.”
“I didn’t stalk him or anything, but no, I didn’t actually try again.”
“I think I have my work cut out for me.” Sophie lifts her glass to her mouth and says, “Tomorrow night, we’re going out.”
I roll my eyes, but I did prepare for this. I asked my neighbor Carl where people our age go. “There’s a place called Pete’s,” I say. “I hear they get decent bands in on the weekends.”
“Sounds good to me. Pete’s it is.”
I think about Paul and his Jag. I guess Pete’s is the last place he’d hang out, but that’s probably a good thing. I’m not sure I need a reminder of how the man I fantasize about isn’t into me.
I ask, “So what brings you here for the summer?”
“I’m the new wedding planner for the Winter Valley country club. Seems the current one decided to get pregnant, and she’s due next month.”
I raise my eyebrows, and she says, “I know. But I still believe in the fantasy, and this way I can live vicariously through other people who believe in true love.”
“Good for you,” I say. “I’m sure you’re going to be wonderful.”
“Yeah, I should be. Lord knows I’ve planned enough parties in my day.”
I chuckle as I recall a high school bash we had one weekend my mother was out of town. Somehow we managed to get away with it, and it was due to my younger sister’s planning and bossy attitude. She had people taking the garbage with them when they left and even made the football star vacuum before she’d give him his car keys.
I ask, “When do you start?”
“Monday.”
“And let me guess, everything you own still fits in your car, right?” Sophie left her husband with a vehicle, a couple suitcases, and a big, fat check that lets her do anything she wants to supplement her income.
“Of course.” She sips her wine.
I shake my head as I grin at her. “You are a wonder, Sophie.”
“I’m someth
ing, all right. I still come with baggage, though.”
She frowns, and I say, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You don’t have any more than the average person. Besides, you’re kind of preaching to the choir here. I write about great sex but haven’t been with a man in over a decade.”
Sophie says, “We’re quite the pair.”
My stomach growls, and I get up to retrieve the takeout menus. “We are. But you deserve love, so let’s go find it.” A drawer scrapes open, and items rattle as I begin to pull out restaurant brochures.
“You do too, you know,” says Sophie. “Let’s make this the summer of love.”
“Wait, I think that was a hippie free-love orgy. Although I could give you some pointers on gang sex if you’d like.”
Sophie chuckles and says, “I’ve read all your books. I’m ready.”
Paper rustles when I hold out the menus to my sister and ask, “What would you like for dinner?”
She doesn’t take them. “We’re going out. I want to get the lay of the land at the country club, so I arranged for us to have dinner there tonight.”
“Fancy.” I speak in a haughty accent. “Whatever shall I wear?”
“Something sexy.” Sophie stands up and moves toward my bedroom. “Let’s go see what you’ve got. You never know who you might run into.”
The vision of Paul Ryan strolling across the parking lot in his suit flashes in my head. She’s right. Maybe I’ll find another powerful man to replace Paul in my fantasies. I say, “I’m so glad you’re here for the summer, Sophie.” I follow her as she walks down the hall and say, “I think you might be just what I need.”
Chapter 3
Sophie decked me out in a long skirt with boots, a tight cotton camisole, and a sheer blouse. While my hair doesn’t curl naturally the way my sister’s does, it is thick and receptive to styling, so I put it up in a loose topknot and curled the tendrils that fell out.
